A New Dark Age Rising
by HeartofMine
Summary: They thought the danger was over. But now with new threats looming in the air, could there be a new Dark Lord emerging from Voldemorts smoke and ashes? R/Hr H/G - Read and review please!
1. It's Not Over Yet

Harry couldn't remember when he'd ever slept so long. It was the first time in a long time that he had been able to fully rejuvenate himself without interruption. No need for taking watch in shifts in fear of being found out. No need for sleepless nights while the impending reminder of horcruxes consumed him. That was all over now, and he couldn't be more relieved.

Now awake, Harry rolled over on the pallet that he had made on the floor of Ron's room and stared up at the ceiling. He could hear Ron snoring above him and was surprised that it hadn't woken him up once during the night. Smiling lightly at the familiar sound, Harry sat up slowly. His whole body felt as though it had been hit with a wrecking ball, and his smile turned into a wince. The blankets that had been covering his chest tumbled down into a heap in his lap as he turned his body to pat blindly on the bedside table behind him for his glasses. When he finally located them, he slipped them on and untangled his legs from the blankets before standing and making sure to tread softly while leaving the room. Not that he thought Ron would be awakened by a few creaking floorboards, but one never knew. The entire house was quiet, Harry noticed, as he stepped out into the hallway. Even though Ron's room was on one of the highest floors in the house, they could always hear the goings on down below. Now, Harry was fairly certain he would be able to hear a pin drop. Well, had Ron's snoring been silenced, anyhow. Judging by the noise, or lack thereof, he would swear that he was the first one up which was quite unusual.

However, when he stepped into the kitchen he saw an all-too familiar body standing at the counter making a pot of tea. Harry hadn't been able to take a closer look at Ginny since the battle at Hogwarts, but he could only image the kind of beating her own body had taken. She had fought along side them, despite what her family and Harry had said. She had almost died as well, a thought that will probably stay with Harry for the rest of his life. He was certain that if Mrs. Weasley hadn't done in with Bellatrix, he would have. And it wouldn't have just been for Ginny's sake. It would have been for Sirius's and Neville's sakes as well. She'd ruined Neville's life, after all, and ripped Sirius's from him all together. She deserved exactly what she got.

Ginny turned around just then and started at the sight of Harry standing in the doorway.

"Oh! Harry, I had no idea you were there." She smiled lightly and walked over to the kitchen to set the tea kettle down. "Come and have a cup of tea," she said as she grabbed two cups from the cupboard. He made his way over and slid into a seat, watching her as she took the one across from him. She poured tea in both cups and slid one over to him, then stirred about a scoopful of sugar into hers before taking a sip. They were both quiet for a moment, and in this time, Harry was able to really assess her. He noticed scrapes and bruises here and there, but nothing that looked too serious. Dragging hi gaze to her face, he noticed the dark circles immediately. He was curious as to how she hadn't been getting sleep; he figured she would be just as exhausted as everyone else from the fight and therefore be sleeping like a baby now that she knew all was well. But apparently, there was a lot going on in Ginny Weasley's mind that made her unable to sleep at night. His eyes moved further up and caught her gaze, and he blinked. "Do I really look that awful?" she asked softly.

"What? No, of course not," he said hurriedly, but she was already shaking her head.

"It's okay, Harry. I can only guess how awful I look. If I look half as awful as I feel, then it's perfectly understandable that you would be looking at me the way you just were."

Harry hadn't been aware that he had been looking at Ginny in any certain way, but he immediately averted his gaze, looking down into his tea cup instead. Another silence rested between them. He was unsure what to say. Whatever was on her mind had to be recent, and he didn't suppose she wanted to talk about it just yet. More than likely, it was about the loss the Weasley family had just suffered. He, himself, was trying to not think about it so much. He was trying not to think about all the tragedies that had hit him in just a short amount of time, and all of the responsibility he was now left with; he still wasn't sure how he was going to manage raising a baby, and on his own no less. He wished it were possible to stop time, just for a little while, so he could sort everything out.

"I miss him," Ginny said suddenly, yet softly, and broke Harry from his reverie. He looked back up at her, but saw that she was staring off at the wall behind him. He could tell that she was trying to keep it together, but he also noticed the struggle she was having with keeping the tears back. "Fred," she said, as if to clarify, but Harry knew perfectly well who she was talking about. "He and George always knew how to cheer me up. They were rarely serious about anything." She gave a sniffle and finally met his gaze. "Sometimes that was frustrating, but it's how they were, so everyone just learned to accept it." She paused to take a sip of her tea, and Harry noticed that her hand was trembling. He wanted to reach over to take it in his, and comfort her, but he resisted. He decided it was probably best to just listen for now, and that's exactly what he did when she continued. "George is taking it the hardest, I think. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like, losing a twin. It's hard enough when he's your brother, but to be connected to him in a way that no one else can be?" She shook her head, and looked towards the stairs now, as if she were looking up to George's room. "He's not been the same. No one has, really," she added, looking over at him once again. "You seem to have a lot weighing on you as well, Harry." When he said nothing, she pressed on. "Don't let me hog all of the spotlight." She smiled a little. "Spill."

Harry didn't know where to begin. He didn't see the point in mentioned all of the death and destruction; Ginny knew all about that. They were just now taking a toll on him, mentally, now that he was able to actually stop and think about everything that had happened in the past few months. But he didn't want to burden Ginny with any of those morose thoughts; she had enough depression to deal with as it was. So he settled for the thing that was currently weighing him down the most.

"I'm a father now," he said, then, noticing the look on Ginny's face – a look of confusion and utter shock – he quickly added, "What I mean, is that Remus and Tonks named me Godfather of their child. And now they're both…er…gone and now I've got a kid to take care of." His eyes slid shut briefly and he sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Ginny."

"Well," she started slowly, and Harrys eyes popped open when he felt her fingers on the back of his hand. "Perhaps I could help you. All of us," she added quickly. "You know, mum's raised seven of us. Plus dad," she said with a grin. "I'm sure he could count. But I'm sure everything will be fine."

Harry nodded at this, but still wasn't convinced. "Tonk's mother has him now He's the last piece of her family that she has; I'm not certain she'll give him up easily anyway. Maybe…" he started, but paused, wondering how terrible Ginny would think he was if he were to finish his thought. "Maybe I should just let her take care of him," he finished finally, and then looked down into his tea cup again. Harry had been unaware that Ginny still had a hold of his hand until she gave it a gentle squeeze. "I don't want him completely out of my life," he said, desperate to make himself sound like less of a git. "I want to see him. I want to buy him what he needs. But I don't know that I can be his sole provider and caretaker. I'm only seventeen." Oh, but he felt years older. It was almost as if Ginny could read his thoughts, because she said,

"But you don't act seventeen. You're mature, and you're responsible and you have a good head on your shoulders. I believe whole-heartedly that you could take this on and do just fine." Harry stared at her, searched her gaze and wondered how she had so much faith in him. Defeating the darkest wizard of all time had been hard and very trying, and there were plenty of moments where he had doubted himself and his ability to stay alive and keep everyone he loved safe and out of harms way. He wondered how similar raising a child would be. He would be sure to ask Mrs. Weasley later.

Once again, Harry was ripped from his thoughts by a loud yawn. He looked over just in time to see Ron walking in, bleary eyed and hair looking incredibly mussed. Absently, Harry raised a hand to his own hair, knowing that Ron's hair couldn't possibly hold a candle to his own. Ron looked over at the pair of them sitting at the table, and his eyes wandered down to their joined hands. He gave a grunt, and turned to grab a cup from the cupboard, and while his back was turned, Harry and Ginny both let go of each other, Ginny busying herself with stirring her tea, and Harry trying in vane to flatten his hair. When Ron turned, he sat down in a chair next to Ginny and reached past her for the tea pot. She rolled her eyes and said, "You could have asked for me to pass it, you know." He merely gave another grunt and poured his tea. The corners of Harry's mouth twitched at the look that Ginny had shot Ron, who seemed to be completely oblivious to anything that wasn't his tea.

This is, until Hermione stepped into the room.

"'Morning," she greeted them through a yawn and a stretch, and they all looked over at her. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ron sit a little straighter in his chair. He pursed his lips together and looked across the table at Ginny, who was also trying to smother a smile.

"Hermione," Ginny started, now taking a closer look at Hermione, "is…that Ron's shirt?" Ron, having just taken a drink from his cup, choked a little on the tea and looked over at her as well. Hermione's cheeks turned scarlet and she opened her mouth, possibly to explain the situation, but Harry spoke up instead.

"You know, it looks quite nice outside. Perhaps I'll, er…take a walk or something." He gave Ginny a pointed look, and she bit down on her lower lip, smiling lightly.

"Yes, I think a walk does sound rather nice. Let me just run up and grab a sweater, and I'll go with you." Without waiting for an answer, Ginny stood from the table and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Uhm," Hermione said at first, then cleared her throat. "Mrs. Weasley gave it to me to sleep in. Ginny and I are different sizes after all, and she figured that something a big larger would be more comfortable." Ron's ears had gone red by this time, and he looked Hermione up and down. Harry wished more than ever that Ginny would hurry up. He would like to not be present for another Ron and Hermione snog session.

"So," he said loudly, to break whatever tension that had begun building in the room. "Did you both sleep well?" They both seemed glad for the topic change, because Ron faced him now, and Hermione dug another tea cup from the cupboard.

"Yeah, I did," said Ron. "What about you? I know you've slept on the floor loads of times, but still, it can't be all the comfortable."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't notice it at all, really. I was just happy to be able to sleep uninterrupted." Ron nodded his head in agreement to this and Hermione joined them at the table.

"Could you please pass the tea?" she asked Ron. Then, she turned to Harry and said, "You should take the couch in the den tonight. I'm sure it'll be more comfortable." She took the tea kettle that Ron had passed to her and poured some into her cup.

"No, you keep the couch. The floor is fine, really."

"I'm just saying that it can't feel too good after everything you've been through."

"Hermione, you went through most of the same stuff that I did. Plus, I slept in a cupboard for a good part of my life. The floor is really no big deal."

She opened her mouth to argue more, but Ron cut her off.

"Hermione, if he wants to sleep on the floor, then let him." Harry looked over at him and smiled a little, and Ron gave him a nod of understanding in return, and Hermione, catching the exchange, merely sighed. It was then that Ginny wandered back into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over her head.

"Ready?" she said to Harry who nodded and stood from the table. "We'll be back in a few," she said to the others, and they both went out through the back door, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the kitchen. It was the first time they had truly been alone in quite a while, and now, neither of them knew exactly what to say. Well, that wasn't entirely true. They both knew of a perfect topic to bring up, but didn't know quite how to go about bringing it up without seeming tactless. Hermione had racked her brain all night. Figuring out ways to bring it up. She knew it wasn't the most important subject that needed to be discussed, and therefore didn't want to be the one to bring it up first, in fear of seeming narrow-minded. But she knew Ron, and knew that the chances of him ever bringing it up were slim to none. It was this thought that made Hermione take a deep breath and say, "Ron, I think we need to talk."

He looked up from his tea at her, brow furrowed. "'Bout what?"

Hermione blinked at his response; how could he be so oblivious? Then again, this was Ron she was talking to. Ron, who has always been oblivious to everything. There was no skirting around subjects with him. One always had to approach things head on.

"Well, about the, er…" She cleared her throat. "The kiss."

"Oh," was all he said at first. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, fidgeting in his chair and avoiding her gaze. _'She regrets it,'_ Ron thought. _'Now that everything's said and done, she regrets it.' _Dreading what was to come, Ron said, "What about it?"

Hermione pursed her lips momentarily. _'Yes, Hermione, what about it?'_ she asked herself. She was a smart woman, top in her year at Hogwarts – in the years that she had attended, that is – but for some reason Ron always seemed to stump her.

"I was just thinking about it, and I thought that maybe we could talk about it."

"You mean analyze it." Ron shook his head lightly. "Hermione, some things aren't meant to be analyzed. I know that that's what you do best; you like figuring things out. But I think it was pretty much self explanatory." Hermione smiled at this, and briefly wondered why she couldn't have made sense of it that way herself. "What I'm wondering now," Ron continued, scooting his chair a little closer to hers, "is if, now that it's quiet, and we're not in the middle of a war, we might be able to try it again." On the outside, he was the epitome of confidence, with the exception of his shaking hands. But on the inside, he was hoping against hope that he had been wrong about her regretting it. He was taking a giant leap, something he wasn't used to doing with Hermione.

Hermione, with butterflies fluttering around in her stomach, nodded at his suggestion and began to move in. He seemed to mirroring her action, going for meeting her in the middle, but before they made it, the windows all around them shattered one by one. Hermione screamed and Ron threw an arm around her, dragging them both to the floor and ducking under the table, shielding her body with his own. Even though all of the windows in the kitchen had shattered, Ron could hear all the rest around the house going, and he leapt up from the floor and sprinted out into the living room, bringing his arms up to protect his face. He heard his mother's screams, and a moment later the rest of his family came running down the stairs, blankets over their heads and fear in their eyes.

"Ron!" his mother yelled. "Ron, what's going on?" But Ron had no answer for her.

And just like that, it all ended. Ron guessed it was because every window in the house had been shattered. He stood in the middle of the living room, turning in a slow circle, surveying the damage. Glass crunched beneath his feet, and as his eyes swept over one of the damaged windows, he could see Harry and Ginny running towards the house.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked, his eyes locking with Hermione's – she had come out from beneath the table and now stood in the doorway. She nodded while everyone else murmured that, yes, they were fine.

"What happened?" Ginny asked.

"Ron and I were just sitting in the kitchen when the glass just started shattering around us."

Ginny stepped into the kitchen and looking around. Harry stepped up next to Ron and looked around the room as well.

"Ginny and I were headed back from our walk when we heard it. All the windows upstairs are busted." He looked around at all of the other Weasleys. "Are you sure none of you are hurt?"

"We're fine, Harry, dear. Just a bit startled is all. I can't even begin to think of what caused this." Mrs. Weasley's eyes traveled around the room slowly, taking in all of the wreckage. Mr. Weasley stood beside her, one arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, dearest," he said to her, then pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Harry watched this, then instinctively looked around for Ginny. He saw her through the kitchen doorway, standing at one of the window frames, staring outside. There was something a bit off about her stance, and this made him step into the kitchen.

"Ginny?" he said gently. "Is everything okay?"

Ginny glanced back at him, and he noticed something in her eyes. Having only seen it fleetingly, he couldn't tell what it was.

"Harry, come look at this," was all she said at first, and when he stepped up beside her and looked out the window, his stomach dropped. There, out in the middle of the back yard, eye level, was a fiery message hovering in midair.

_THIS ISN'T OVER YET, POTTER!_

"Isn't over?" he said, echoing the message.

"He's dead, though, Harry," Ginny said, and Harry detected a waver in her voice. "He's dead, so this isn't really a threat, is it?" It was then that Harry realized that what he'd seen in Ginny's eyes was fear, because he could detect in her voice now. But Harry couldn't honestly answer that question. He knew there were still people who were firm believers in the dark arts; that's one thing that would never change. It look as thought now, someone were trying to take over for Voldemort, now that he had been overthrown.


	2. On The Road Again

The shattered windows hadn't been the only attack on the Weasley house, but it had been, by far, one of the worst to date. There were more eerie messages left around, always after an attack, but they never were able to see who was behind it. They were just too quick with the get-away.

The attacks were creative, if that was even the right term to use. First the windows and the fiery message. Then, they had burned a message into Mrs. Weasley's flower garden and set fire to the enchanted scarecrow to get their attention. Another day, the culprit had cursed the garden gnomes to pelt the house with pebbles. At first, everyone had thought the gnomes had just gone berserk; it was possible that they had gotten fed up with being tossed around, literally, and were taking a stand. But one glance out the windows told them that this was the work of someone who chose to remain invisible, and that the gnomes were not acting of their on accord, for they noticed a long line of slain livestock with a word written on each in its own blood, spelling out:

_THE DARK AGE WILL RISE AGAIN_

After this specific attack, Mrs. Weasley was close to having a panic attack. Harry didn't blame her. What had happened to them was scary, and nerve racking.

And it was all because of Harry that it was happening.

Of course, no one had said that, not in so many words, but everyone knew. It had been written, plain as day, in blood and fire. Once again, his presence was endangering the lives of the ones he loved the most. He was pondering this, and also wondering the active measures he could take in order to make everyone safe again as he sat alone in the den later on that night. The only solution that was sticking out in his mind was him leaving well enough alone. Leaving was the best thing he could do for any of them. His head was swimming with all of the possibilities, of all of the places he could go, should go, when Hermione stepped into the room. He didn't notice she was there until the couch that he was sitting on sagged a little under her weight. He looked up and was met with her smile.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh," he said, and then sighed. "Hermione, I just can't believe this is all happening again. I thought that things were finally back to normal. I thought everyone could finally lead a normal life. And maybe other people are. But you guys won't be able to, as long as I'm here." Right after he'd said this, he wondered why he hadn't just kept it to himself. Hermione looked at him, a stern look in her eyes, and she turned her body to face him better.

"Harry James Potter, don't you even dare start that again. How many times have we gone over this in the past? We're all in this together, and we're all here to help. It's always been that way, and no, I imagine, it'll stay that way." Then, she added in a gentler tone, "You know Ron and I are always going to be by your side, no matter what." She reached around and rubbed his back. "So, please, any thoughts that you have of going off by yourself, just get rid of them."

There was a moment's hesitation on Harry's part, but he finally averted his gaze from hers, now looking down at the floor, and nodded.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

With everyone fast asleep, Harry quickly and quietly packed his most important possessions in a rucksack that he had just been able to unpack. With clean clothes that Mrs. Weasley has been so kind to wash for him, Harry dressed himself hastily and tiptoed from Ron's room. He was trying to make the least amount of noise as possible. The fewer people that knew of his departure, the better, and he was hoping that no one would become aware.

Once downstairs, he pulled out a loose piece of parchment and an old quill, then dug around in drawers for an ink pot. He finally found one, though it was nearly dried out but worked all the same. He scrawled a quick note that said:

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

Thank you for allowing me to stay, even though it's because of me that all these things are happening. You won't have to worry now, as I've left, and hopefully took the vandal with me. Please stay safe. That goes for everyone else in the house. Ron, Hermione, take care, please. Ginny, please do the same. I'll miss you all, and I'll write when I get the opportunity. Please don't come looking for me.

Love,

Harry

Harry read, and re-read, the letter before finally bottling the ink and backing away from the table. He slipped quietly out the back door, shutting it softly once more with a faint _click._


	3. The Strangest Thing

**Disclaimer: Since I forgot to do this in the first couple of chapters, I'll do it now. Even though I wish I owned these characters, the sad truth is that I do not. They belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling!**

**_________________________________________________________________**

**Nearly Five Years Later – **

Ginny Weasley sat at the kitchen table of the small flat that she resided in, mulling over the recent news in the Daily Prophet as she nursed a steaming cup of tea. This had been a morning routine that she had started up five years ago. Every single morning she would wake up and start a pot of tea – she usually did this the muggle way. She would gather the Daily Prophet from, and tip, the owl sitting on the window sill in her kitchen, and then scan each page looking for any news – any scrap at all – on Harry Potter. Never able to find any, she would finish brewing her tea, sit down at the table, and read her paper properly. She would always feel a mixture of emotions when she failed to see his name anywhere. First, she felt relief; it most likely meant that he was all right. Fear pushed right past relief, because she still had no idea where he was. He'd sent a total of five owls. That was one a year, and all of them said the same thing.

_I'm fine. Please don't worry about me. I'm trying to protect you all. I hope you understand. Don't try tracing this, you won't find me._

_Love,_

_Harry_

They were always short and to the point, and always gave the instruction to not try to find him. Ginny tried to understand his logic behind leaving, but she just couldn't. Even with everything that had gone on, she felt safer with him near because she knew he would never let anything happen to any of them. And maybe she had been selfish to think that, since everything was done and over with, they could pick back up where they had left off. Perhaps she had been foolish to think that, but she believed that something had always been there between them, and had been determined to rekindle it. The morning she had gone downstairs and found his note five years ago, she had been heartbroken, and she had been furious. She never expected him to be gone this long. Whenever she got to really thinking about him, she found herself asking, "Harry, what _are_ you up to?" and longed for an answer.

The paper in her hands wasn't particularly exciting. There was no news worth discussing except, perhaps, the fact that, starting that week, six death eaters had been sent to Azkaban. The captures were tales of wizard duels that ended with Aurors on the winning end, but never mentioned any names of any Aurors, which Ginny felt was odd. Surely, they'd give credit where credit was due, and catching Death Eaters couldn't be any small feat.

"I'd feel cheated," Ginny muttered to herself as she closed the paper and refolded it. She drank the rest of the tea in her cup, rinsed it, and then shuffled back to her room to get ready for work. She was owner of a new Quidditch Supply shop in Diagon Alley; during the war, the old shop had shut down because it hadn't been getting business, and it never re-opened. There had been a high demand of broomsticks and Quidditch uniforms, and so Ginny set up a new shop which she named **Weasley Quidditch Supply**. It wasn't catchy, but she received business all the same. At least once every couple months she received a large order of broomsticks from the ministry to use for their Auror team. This pleased her to no end, because she knew that they could get top of the line broomsticks at other, more well-known shops, but chose hers instead.

She also helped George out in her spare time in the shop that he and Fred had started in her fifth year at Hogwarts. It was still a booming business, especially with all of the school aged kids looking for any way possible to skip out of class, and she and George had made a deal to promote each other in their shops. All in all, it was working out nicely for everyone.

Once she was ready, she closed her eyes and thought of her shop, thought of the sleek broomsticks and crisp uniforms, then turned on the spot and disappeared from her bedroom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

She Apparated just outside the shop, and when her feet were firmly on the ground, she loosened the grip she had on her purse and began rummaging for the shop keys. As she searched, she had the strangest feeling that she was being watched, and when she glanced up to look up and down the Alley, she saw no one. It was still early, and shops were just about to open, so it might have been a shop keeper looking out the window at her, but she doubted that notion when she felt her hair flutter down from atop her shoulder. She halted the search for her keys and turned her head to the side slightly, trying to detect wind, but caught no draft. She ignored the goosebumps that suddenly popped up all over her arms.

'_Odd,'_ she thought, and continued digging around in her purse until she pulled out the set she had been looking for. She plucked the right one from the lot of them and unlocked the door, and when she opened it, she pulled out her wand and took down the protective barrier to keep thieves from breaking in during the night hours when no one was there. She stepped over the threshold, finally, and smiled. The shop was like a second home to her. She felt comfortable there, and even though it had the tendency to be busy beyond belief, she was happy to be there every day. She had hired help as well, a man by the name of Grayson Loyola. He was two years her senior and a very quiet man most days, but knew how to do business. He knew how to turn on the charm and was a master at selling anything to almost anyone. He was a gem, and proved to be a positive addition to her business. One thing she liked about him was that he was always willing to work, even when he wasn't scheduled. He never complained when she called him in on a moments notice; it was almost as if he had no life outside of Weasley Quidditch Supply. She would have to remember a raise for Grayson, for his readiness and salesmanship. In fact, if she recalled, he was due in later that day. Perhaps she would bring it up to him then.

Agreeing with that thought, she set to work on getting the store ready to open. She made sure the floors were free of debris and all uniforms were hanging on their proper racks. She refused to let any store of hers be untidy.

As far as good days for doing business went, this was not one of them. Ginny had seen many people roaming around the shop and even talked up all the products that she had caught them eyeing, but in the end she had only sold one broom, had taken one order for a new set of uniforms, and a few broom grooming kits. It hadn't been necessary for Grayson to stay, but she let him stay anyway. It wasn't as though he had done nothing the rest of the night, either. He took a thorough inventory count, stocked the shelves to their full capacity, but only after he'd dusted them off first. He made the store shine by the end of the night, and so when it came time to close up, there was nothing left to do but record all sales.

"Grayson," Ginny started, surveying the shop from behind the desk, "have I ever told you how amazing you are?" He looked up at her and she noticed his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. Ginny complimented his work ethic and attitude often, but he still wasn't used to it. However, he did generally make light of it, she guessed to make himself feel less awkward.

"Not today, no," he said, and she smiled.

"I hired you on in, I want to say, February. Is that correct?" When he nodded, she went on. "You've brought in an enormous amount of sales, and you've had to work long hours and you never complain. And even though we're nearing the end of July and the business has started to slow down a little, you never do. Slow down, that is. I'm very impressed." She gave him a bright, warm smile. "This is why I've decided to give you a bit of a bonus." She watched as his eyes went wide.

"Oh, but really, I love doing the work. I love staying busy. It's all my pleasure, I assure you. No bonus is necessary."

Ginny's head tilted to one side, her brow lightly furrowed. He was a strange man, indeed. Who would turn down a bonus?

"Nevertheless," she began slowly, "you're getting a bonus. I appreciate all of your hard work." When he opened his mouth once more, most likely to argue, she continued, more loudly. "Case closed. You're getting one and that's that. We'll discuss a reasonable amount." She knew she would have to set the going rate high, because he would, no doubt, negotiate for a lower amount.

"If you insist," he said after a moment, and then pursed his lips. "Perhaps we could discuss it tonight, over drinks? At the Leaky Cauldron?" He had been looking down at the floor as he said this, but then peeked up at her through his lashes shyly. She couldn't help but smile at this, and she nodded. If he thought that this was going to be something other than a little business outing, then she would have to set him straight; she wasn't yet ready to give up on Harry.

"Yeah, all right," she said finally. Ginny reached below the counter and gathered her purse, and then Grayson helped her lock up, then they set off down the Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron.

As they walked, they talked. She let Grayson set the walking pace, and he set it slow, his hands sliding inside the pockets of his slacks.

"So, you're working at your brother's shop tomorrow, are you?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I am. George never has a lull in sales," she said with a laugh. "He says that he's got kids coming in left and right buying stuff before it runs out of stock. Children will do just about anything to miss class." She smiled. "He reckons he's going to need a helping hand tomorrow. Says that he has a feeling it's going to be busy." She looked up at him and said, "You'll do okay on your own. I doubt we'll be busy. But, if we are, I'm just a few shops away."

Just then, she bumped shoulders with someone and looked over while saying, "Excuse me," but the apology died on her lips when she saw no one. She paused and looked around, getting the eerie feeling she'd had before, when she thought she was being watched. Her brow knitted together and she turned in a slow circle, looking around. Grayson, noticing the look on her face, asked, "Ginny? Are you all right?" She looked up at him again, then glanced briefly back down the Alley before nodding.

"I'm fine," she answered, and turned. She sent Grayson a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and began walking again.

The rest of the night she was distracted, and apologized profusely to Grayson when she announced that she was going to turn in early.

"I'm sorry. I know we said we were going to go over a proper bonus amount for you, but I'm just not feeling up to par right now." Grayson told her that he understood, and waited outside with her while she prepared to Apparate home.

"Goodnight," he said to her, and she nodded her goodnight to him before picturing her home and disappearing.

Once she was inside, she locked her doors and set up protection charms all around the house, still unable to shake the feeling that she was not alone.

"You're losing it," she kept telling herself as she got ready for bed. The incident in Diagon Alley had her looking over her shoulder every time she heard a noise. She wasn't easily frightened; she grew up with six brothers, so she knew just about every trick in the book for scaring the wits out of someone. She thought she'd been immune, but apparently not.

She'd gone to bed that night with the lights on, and when she'd woken up the next morning, they had been shut off.

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**Authors Note:** Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! I appreciate all of your feedback! If you're reading this now and have not yet reviewed, then please do? I like hearing what people have to say! Constructive criticism is great!

Also, I'm sorry if you notice that there's a delay in my posting chapters. When I do post, I'm at work where I have access to a computer with Microsoft Word which, sadly, my mothers laptop does not come equipped with. So, I'm doing my best to get chapters posted, but I can't promise it's going to be a quick turnover!


	4. Quite The Shocker

**Disclaimer: Even though I wish I owned these characters, the sad truth is that I do not. They belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling!**

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Ginny was glad for the rush at the shop the next morning, and threw herself vigorously into selling the Weasley Wizard Wheezes products. She'd never felt the need to be more concentrated on one task, and it was all to keep her mind off recent, unexplainable events. Like her blasted bedroom light. She knew – _knew!_ – she had kept it on. What she couldn't explain was how it was off when she woke up. But then, it would go hand in hand with the theory of hers that she wasn't completely alone that night. She was tempted to ask Hermione to stay with her tonight; it was unnerving just thinking about what could have happened to her while she slept and she knew that she wouldn't sleep a wink unless she had company.

'_Perhaps I should ask Hermione if I could stay at her place,' _she thought, feeling that this might ultimately be the better idea of the two. This way, if there was danger lurking at her flat, then Hermione wouldn't be caught up in it, too. Ron would kill her if she let something happen to his girlfriend. Hermione might well be the only girl who could ever stand him for long periods of time; even he had to admit he was a difficult bloke to be around half the time.

A tap on her shoulder made her jump, and she turned, wide-eyed, to see an older man standing before her.

"Miss?" he said, surveying her curiously. When she smiled lightly, he felt it safe to go on, and said, "Could you tell me if this really works?" He held out a vial of love potion and she looked down at it, blinking. Merlin! The man must have been clear into his sixties, and he was inquiring about love potions?

"Uhm…" She cleared her throat and tried to suppress a laugh. "Yes, I believe it does. All of the products you see in here are guaranteed to work." The man gave her a toothy grin and a nod, clutching the potion more tightly in his hand. He thanked her, then turned and grabbed a couple more vials from the display. Ginny made a mental note to never accept anything should that man ever offer it to her. She wasn't sure how strong one vial alone was, but with the amount he was buying, he could do some serious damage. She would have to remember to send out a prayer to the person on the receiving end. She was watching the man walk up to the counter to pay for his things hen George sidled up to her. She glanced over at him and saw him watching the man as well, a grin on his face.

"Must be desperate to be that old and resorting to love potions," he said, and then looked over at her, laughter clearly glinting in his blue eyes.

"I fear he's going to use them all at once," she said with a giggle. "Did you see how many vials he bought?" George nodded, and then slung an arm around her shoulders.

"And I hope he comes back for more."

Ginny looked over at her brother, her eyes wide.

"He shouldn't need more! With what he bought, he could have an army of love-sick women! Or, you know, whatever he prefers." George actually laughed at this and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before tousling her hair and walking off to greet a customer. She shook her head as he walked away, and then reached a hand up to straighten the hair that he had mussed. She wandered back into the storage area to grab more vials of the love potion, as the old man had nearly cleared them out. She was moving aside boxes to get to them when she heard a fairly loud _thump _come from the back of the storeroom. She stopped what she was doing and straightened slowly, reaching for her wand.

"Hello?" she called out. She heard nothing. "Look, I know you're in here, you might as well come out." She strained her ears, listening for movement, or breathing. She'd even ceased breathing herself. After a moment of silence, she let out a breath slowly, sighing.

"You've gone mental," she said matter-of-factly to herself as she bent over to pick up a box filled with the love potion. She turned to walk out, but when she faced the door, all the breath suddenly left her body at the sight before her, and the box of potions went crashing to the floor.


	5. A Different Kind Of Mission

**Disclaimer: Even though I wish I owned these characters, the sad truth is that I do not. They belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling!**

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He had been hanging around for weeks, watching, waiting for the right opportunity. Of course, he didn't know when that might be; he didn't know if he wanted to risk exposure just yet. But he hung around anyway. He made it his mission to look after her, and he told himself it was just to see how she was doing, and he would also check in on Ron and Hermione as well. However, once he'd gotten a glimpse of her, his chances of ever being able to turn around and walk straight away were shot.

Especially since he had seen her a few times with that Grayson bloke.

Harry knew that he had no right – no right at all – to be jealous. He had made the decision years ago to walk away so that they might all have a fighting chance at leading a happy, normal lifestyle. He knew that Ginny wouldn't wait around forever, but he had to disagree with her love interest now. He noticed the way she always smiled at him, and one had to be blind not to notice the way he mooned over her. As he watched the pair of them, Harry found it exceedingly difficult to suppress an eye roll every now and then.

The longer he watched Ginny, the harder it was to keep himself hidden, and Harry had been trained by the best when it came to the art of concealment.

When Harry had left that evening five years earlier, he hadn't had a feasible plan in mind. He didn't know where he was headed to, or what he was going to do once he got there. He was going to roll with the punches that life threw at him until he met a man by the name of Xavier Hewitt. Xavier had told Harry that he'd heard all about him, and thought he'd make an excellent Auror. He had offered Harry a once in a lifetime opportunity and it was then that he started training. He had to go through several training courses; transfigurations, potion-making, and charms, as well as stealth training, for he would be completing many tasks during which he would need to stay hidden.

A sodding lot of good his training was doing him now. He hadn't been trained specifically to stay away from Ginny Weasley, but he had to even though he proved to be a blundering idiot on more than once occasion. Some things he did had been intentional, like getting close enough to where he could touch her hair, and making sure she got home okay, then tucking her in and turning out her bedroom light once she was asleep. He'd been able to carefully take down the barrier charms she'd set, and put them right back up again when he left before she woke. There had been a few times when his invisibility cloak nearly slipped off when he was around her, and once his shoe accidentally popped out from the bottom, but she hadn't appeared to notice.

And he certainly hadn't meant to make such a mess of everything back in the storage room of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes shop, but, alas, he had. The box, in his opinion, has been ill-placed, he told himself over and over again in his head as he realized he'd caught her attention. Cursing himself for being so clumsy, he tried to tip-toe around the boxes to slip out of the room before her. He had almost made it, too, and he had glanced back at her over his shoulder when he caught her gaze, and she shocked expression on her face. He glanced down at the ground and noticed his cloak pooled at his feet.

'_Bloody great,'_ he thought. _'They should most definitely revoke my Auror license.'_ He could hear the breath leave her in a _whoosh _as the box she had been holding fell to the floor. He closed his eyes and grimaced when he heard everything shatter, and peeked out at her through slatted eyelids when silence was the only thing that rang in the air. When he fully opened his eyes, he watched her as she took a step forward.

"Harry?" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. The look on her face told him that she definitely wanted to believe it was him, but wasn't getting her hopes up. She reached out and cupped his face gently in her hands, running her thumbs over his lips and feeling his face to make sure it was really him. Her hands slid down to his chest and she splayed her fingers out, looking to them briefly then lifting her eyes to meet his again. Without another word, she closed the distance between them, sliding her arms around him and pressing her cheek into his chest. He embraced her, resting his cheek atop her head, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. Merlin, how he missed her.

They stayed like that for a while, just standing there holding one another, until she slowly pulled herself away. Harry noticed the tear streaks down her cheeks immediately and felt the lowest of low. He reached a hand out to wipe them away. She averted her gaze, looking down at the floor and pursing her lips. Harry shifted nervously from one foot to the other and was about to ask her if everything was okay, when she looked back up at him again. There was something different in her eyes now; the looked harder, and they told Harry that, most definitely, everything was not okay. He thought about taking a step back, just in case, when her hand shot out and connected with the side of his face, leaving a loud, ringing sound hanging in the air (although, he was fairly certain it was possible that he was the only one that could hear the ringing).

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**Authors Note:** I realize the chapters are a little on the short side, but I needed to set all this up for the next one, which should be a bit like the first one. Happy reading, all, and review please! I love hearing what you've got to say!


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